


Innocent Boy

by GhostClimber



Series: Out of the Blue [5]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arcobaleno (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!) As Family, Arcobaleno Curse (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Brotherly Bonding, Emotional Baggage, Family Bonding, Immortality is a curse, Not Beta Read, Past Abuse, TW: Blood, TW: some gore here and there, TW: sucide attempt, The Fated Day, Trauma, introspective, we die like heroes as usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29464104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostClimber/pseuds/GhostClimber
Summary: Skull de Mort is nothing but a young, talented stuntman that didn't ask to work for the Mafia.And this is not the first time that fate has something horrible for him.But he could never imagine what was going to happen this time.
Relationships: Arcobaleno & Skull (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Arcobaleno bonding with each other
Series: Out of the Blue [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982981
Comments: 10
Kudos: 42





	1. Before any Target: Climb the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii!  
> Mamma mia, here I go again...  
> As you can see, this is part of a series, but it's perfectly independent from it, so feel free to read this and not the encyclopedy I wrote somewhere else XD (though you're very much welcome there as well, of course)  
> I hope you like this, comments and kudos are always the light of my life!  
> Enjoy :)

-This is the job for the great Skull!- the stuntman stated, looking at the mountain that they had been told to climb on. His hands on his hips, his eyes looking up, he looked like the portrait of joy.  
To be honest, when he had found out that his new job was connected to the mafia, he hadn't been very happy: to his knowledge, gained by unquestionable sources like Scarface and The Godfather, the mafiosos weren't exactly good people.  
He had confessed his doubts to Fon, one of his new colleagues, for a simple reason: he looked a lot like Bruce Lee in his manners, and Skull's first job had been to be the stuntman for Bruce's son, Brandon Lee, in the movie “The Crow”.  
So he had approached Fon, with the shyness of a kid that for the first time is asking his parent for some adult advice, and the other man had been very kind: he had explained that movies only showed the most corrupted part of the mafia, and that they all worked for rather honest Families, and that, knowing so, the real assholes didn't dare to engage with them.  
Skull had felt better. He didn't have anything to share with the mafia, but he could count on his colleagues' reputation and assume that their hirer wasn't a bad Al Pacino wannabe. Maybe. Fon had been a bit vague anyway, Skull recalled it was a behaviour called “omertà”, so he didn't know exactly where the man's honesty indicator really stood.  
The only sure thing was that that man, Reborn, was one hell of a weirdo.  
-So, you won't mind helping a lady?- Luce shyly asked, bringing him back to the moment: the mountain to be climbed, the pregnant lady that had to climb it with them.  
-Leave everything to the great Skull!- he said, flexing his biceps.  
-Ahn, here he goes again.- Reborn muttered, at a perfectly audible volume.  
-Hey! What an asshole, you really are...  
-SILENCE!- Lal Mirch scolded them. She was a fierce woman from the military. Skull would have gladly flirted with her, if only he wasn't sure that he would have seen his head rolling on the floor after an intercourse. Lal glanced at both the arguers, then said: -Reborn, Skull wouldn't have begun anything if you didn't provoke him. Skull, you're old enough to know it's not smart to reply when someone provokes you on purpose.  
-And who said Skull was smart?- Verde asked. He was a genius scientist, but sadly lacking of social skills. Viper, a strange creature with a vague gender identity and a heavy love for money, who was at the scientist's side, giggled.  
-Sorry, Lal.- Skull said, rolling his eyes, -Anyway, if we take Verde as an example, we are all a bunch of dumbasses.  
-I'll allow that.- the scientist replied, -Shit, I hope we will have some rest after this mission, I can't stand anymore staying with people who don't know shit about theoretical science.  
-Shall we go?- Lal cut it short. She knew she couldn't expect any excuses from Reborn, and in fact the mysterious killer didn't say anything.  
Stupid, sexy Reborn.

The climbing began, slow and methodical; the route to follow was quite easy. More or less, Skull graded it just below the fifth grade, what was generally indicated as “a stairway” or, in more prosaic terms, “a dumb escalade that you can do while shoving a finger up your ass”. Here and there, there were some spits to secure the rope, and the stuntman figured out it was a rock gym to introduce newbies to the rope experiences. When they passed by a more dangerous part, eased by some metal steps, he definitely convinced himself about it.  
They stopped on a rock balcony, large enough to sit down, to allow Luce to get some rest. Skull looked around and said: -We're nearly there. We climbed more than half of the route, and the last part is a rough plaque.  
-The last part is what?- Verde asked.  
-A rough plaque.- Skull repeated, slowly, -It means that it's not vertical, but just heavily uphill, and that there are many holds.  
-Ah. That's a good thing, I guess.  
-Yes, very good.- Skull felt Reborn's eyes on his back, but when the hitman spoke he didn't say anything about him: -I'm not at ease.  
-Someone's following us.- Fon went on for him, -I knew you had noticed them too.  
-Yes, it's Colonnello.- Lal said, -He's been sticking around me for a life and a half, he was my pupil. But he's not an enemy, he's just...  
-It's not that.- Reborn interrupted her, then he frowned, shook his head looking annoyed and concluded: -Ah, I don't know.  
-Let's go to the top.- Lal decided, getting up, -We sure aren't in an easily defensible position, right now.  
-I agree.- Fon nodded, -At least, from the top we'll have a complete visual and space for movement.- Skull nodded and said to Luce: -You should roll up your skirt a bit. If it goes under your feet, you may slip.  
-Ah, Skull, where would we be without you?  
-Where, I don't know. How, less stressed for sure.- Verde muttered, but there was no mockery in his words and Skull giggled: -Everyone keeps telling me the same thing.  
-I really wonder why.- Verde replied with half of a smile.

They began the escalade again and, just like Skull had predicted, it was easy: there were many easy holds and the surface was rough. The stuntman stood up and spread his arms behind Luce: he had seen a part that was covered in musk, which could made it slippery, but he didn't want to alarm the woman so he just put himself in the best position to catch an eventual fall.  
Fon went past him, curiously glancing at him, but he didn't ask anything; Skull looked at his feet, fixed on the ground as if he had stuck them with glue, and he frowned. Reborn glanced sideways at him and quietly asked: -What's wrong?  
-You were right. There's something strange.  
-Did you see something?  
-No, I didn't. But a plaque can't be so rough. Usually, rain quickly smooths it and makes it look like glass. And yet look at me, I'm standing and I'm not even struggling to.  
-Is there anything that can cause this conformation?- Reborn asked. Skull opened his mouth, but Verde, who was climbing up behind them, answered, heavy breathing: -Nothing. Nothing natural, at least. Skull's right, this should be a smooth surface.  
-Someone ploughed it.- Skull stated. Reborn looked around, then he said: -Stay behind Luce. If she falls, it will be bad, with the child.- Skull ran forward, he literally ran. There was something very wrong with that plaque.  
-Let me help you.- he said to Luce before taking her by her waist and gently accompany her on the plateau to the top; he didn't want to brag, just warn her so she wouldn't jump at his touch. She replied with a tiny, sweet smile that didn't involve her eyes.  
-Are you alright?- Skull asked.  
-I really think that coming here was a mistake.- Luce said. Skull hesitated, then he realized that it was senseless to stay there, a foot on the plateau and the other one on the plaque; all the others had already reached the top and were looking around, their senses alert. Skull could feel them, at an atavistic and animalistic level, and he definitively stepped on the plateau, sure of his colleagues, of their strenght, of their abilities.  
To say it short, he trusted them.

But something happened, something that none of them could foresee.  
As soon as Skull was on the plateau, getting up from his last, long step, the top of the mountain was surrounded by a milky, insane, blinding light.  
It was so intense that it seemed solid, and Skull unconsciously lifted his hands, as if he wanted to see if he could manage to get a hold of it, then his body was pierced by an immeasurable pain.  
From his throat, a suffocated screech emerged, nothing more: everything hurt too much even only to allow him to take a deep breath, contract his diaphragm and cry out. More, he could feel his lungs were being heavily compressed. The sensation reminded him of the time he had to put on a stuntman suit three sizes smaller to look like a very thin actor, but much worse. That suit, once he had put it in, well distributed the pressure over his whole body, making it more than bearable, almost pleasant, like a strange but nice erotic game; the only part of him that wasn't very happy were his balls, and now that he thought about them, Skull was feeling them in his throat.  
No, not in his throat, he corrected himself. He felt them in his lower belly, right past his pelvic floor, pressed against the front part of his prostate, as if they had somehow decided to enter his body. The pain caught the middle part of his body, from his belly button to his thighs, and Skull fell for what it seemed to him a very short time.  
He asked himself if it was some kind of altered gravity: it would have explained the pressure sensation and the very rapid fall; he said to himself he had to ask Verde, he would have known.  
He had the time to ask himself why he was feeling rocks under the palms of his hands, when he had seen only the ground covered with gravel, when the pain got over him.  
Skull fainted.

He woke up at the sound of a high-pitched, terrible scream.  
He recognized, in a vague and out-of-beat way, Lal's voice, but he had never heard her screaming that way: not that she never raised her voice, on the contrary, but when she did she had a hard, military tune, suitable to her role of instructor for the Mossad.  
But now she was screaming her lungs out, as if she was desperate: -Colonnello! Colonnello, no! What happened, oh my God, help me, someone! Colonnello! Shit, Col, wake up!  
-Ahhh, shit, Lal, what's happening?- Skull asked, pushing himself up with both hands. He heard his voice harsh and strident and he assumed he had inhaled some dirt.  
Lal started to insult him, taking out a repertory of curse words that a lady shouldn't know, but Skull barely heard her. His hands, that until a few moments before were thin, with the tip of his fingers a bit squat for the climbing, covered in scars and glabrous for a matter of hygiene, now they only shared the lack of hairs with themselves.  
Instead, they were chubby, smooth and tiny. Very tiny. His knuckles, from being small hills, hard to the touch and the sight, appeared sunken in the soft flesh, to the point that they had become tiny falling puddles. His nails were small, frail and almost shapeless.  
Skull moved them and they followed his command. They were his hands.  
-What happened?- Verde asked, with a muddy voice. Skull looked at him: the scientist had inexplicably become a child. All that was left of his former attire were the lab coat and his glasses. But they weren't anymore a sign of his professionalism and a random frame, randomly chosen because there were other important thing to care about, they only looked like a pathetic Carnival pantomime.  
While Verde got up and fell back down again, maybe shocked or maybe unbalanced, Skull realized a frightening particular: the scientist was no more than two feet tall, maybe less, yet they were at the same height.  
Panicking, Skull brushed his own body with both hands: the initial relief he felt at the touch of the leather of his coat and pants was immediately taken over by the horror.  
Around him, the others were waking up as well, but for what concerned Skull they might as well be on Mars: he was all chubby and sloppy, he was as tall as a spit, his head seemed to be enormous and disproportionate, he also had some childish boobies and his belly was round and soft.  
And, moreover, as a derision symbol, he had a pacifier around his neck.  
Skull's mind went on strike, and his mouth let out a mangled screech of horror.


	2. Target 01: The Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Arcobaleno awakens at the sound of someone screaming his lungs out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> This chapter contains a few graphic descriptions of blood and broken nails. Read at your risk. I divided the paragraphs, so if you want to read you're safe until the next one. If you prefer a vague summary of what happens there because you're afraid to get triggered, I have put one at the very end. It's not like I'm the new Stephen King in town, but a friend gagged a bit even if I had warned them, so I guess it happens.  
> II'm writing this warning because recently I've read a post about triggering things and the scene I wrote is pretty detailed, and I don't want anyone to feel uneasy about that. But if you have seen all of Rob Zombie's movies, go on, take a seat and enjoy!  
> Thank you to w_hope for inspiration! (credit: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320713)  
> I hope you like this chapter as well, I'd be glad to know what you think!  
> Thank you all so much for your support so far!  
> XOXO

Screams.

Horrible screams.

That was all Fon could understand about the world, for the time being: there was someone screaming as if the whole universe had been taken away from them.

He couldn't understand who was screaming, he couldn't even find a meaning in the perspective of the world he had just found himself into, and the pain that was grabbing him from head to toes sure wasn't helping in the slightest.

Fon wondered whether he was dying, then he tried to calm down a bit and he forced himself to evaluate his sensations: the pain wasn't going away, but it was little by little setting at an almost acceptable level, so he could suppose that the worst had somehow passed.

But not for the poor creature who was screeching, or so it seemed; their grief enlarged, clutching Fon's chest in a deadly grip and attacking his calm, that had been so carefully built during years and years of practising martial arts and meditation: Fon was astonished, in that little bit of thoughts he was allowed to by his altered mental state. Nothing before had ever succeeded to slither in the spires of his meditation, once he had decided to estrange himself.

And those screams, high pitched, strident, desperate, not only were making him lose his calm: he was usually ready to pierce anyone who tried to get between him and his meditation, but now that voice that seemed to be the only thing left in the whole world was only building up an unmistakable desire in him.

The desire to _destroy_ anything that was hurting that creature.

Fon raised his head.

Reborn tried to shake away the echo of the screams he was hearing; he had the vague suspect of having yelled himself, but right now he was too busy swallowing saliva and trying to understand why it seemed to him that his palate was smaller. Or maybe he just had a swollen tongue for whatever reason. Anyway, he wasn't the one screaming anymore.

But every consideration about his mouth was distant, vague, irrelevant.

The only true, tangible things in the world were those desperate screams: they had broken into his world, ripping the curtains of the unconsciousness he had fallen into, waking him up and squeezing him out of any kind of drowsiness.

Reborn tried to get up and lost his balance. His head, for some reason, seemed to be too big. The hitman raised his hands and touched it; he quickly understood that something was terribly wrong, but he couldn't understand exactly what it was. He put his hands in front of his face and looked at them.

The first thing he thought, when he saw they were so small and childish, wasn't a question about how it could have happened, but a practical matter: would he still be able to pull a trigger? He took out his gun, unsecured it and pressed with his finger; he discovered with relief that the trigger seemed to be quite easy to move. He probably only needed some exercise to correct the aim and the recoil. Very well.

Because he had the compelling need to _activate_ and _protect_ whoever was crying.

Reborn raised his head.

An unbearable suffering was blowing like a chilly wind.

Luce felt her baby moving, in her belly, as if she wanted to remind her that she was a mother, and that as such she was required to care for the suffering.

She quickly realised that she was in truly unfortunate conditions: her belly, if compared to the rest of her body, was enormous.

Luce become aware that she could die of childbirth, even if she would have managed to bring her pregnancy to its natural end. The baby kicked, gently, and Luce felt relieved: a flicker of precognition made her believe that everything would go well, and that she would even manage to speak to her daughter.

Her maternal instinct, tranquillized by the vision, focused back on what had woken her up: a child was crying, a child very small, very alone and very scared. Luce, who since she was little had always tried to comfort whoever she met, whether it was a dear one or a simple playmate at the playground, tried to stand up, to get up: she had to, she must find that child and help them, even if only with a shiny comforting lie, waiting for a better day.

Her heart was beating fast in her chest, so fast she could feel it in her own hands, and it was pulling her like an impatient dog does with its owner, and Luce made the best effort she could to comply with her own demand of bringing back some _harmony_ in that little grieving heart that was calling her.

Luce raised her head.

Dread.

It was everywhere.

It was unbearable.

Viper whimpered and cocooned on themselves, but it didn't work at all: this way, they were leaving their back exposed, and it was even worse than before, because now they knew where the mysterious attack that they knew was coming would reach them.

They lied on their back and grabbed their knees to their chest, but they rolled on one side again.

There was no way out.

Nothing but death.

Viper rolled on their belly and tried to crawl, heading to the cliff they had seen once arrived on the plateau, but somewhere behind them an obscure presence still lingered, waiting to catch them in the moment of maximum vulnerability.

A strange smell, completely out of context, struck their nostrils: an fastidious mix of animal faeces, dirt covered in oil, sweaty bodies and dump pop-corns.

They heard some vague words of menace in a tongue that they somehow recognised as French and they understood that they had no way to escape at all, then something, a rock, pierced their knee, bringing them back to the present moment.

There was no one speaking French, no immediate danger, just someone who was crying hard enough to rip a heart apart.

Suddenly, Viper found a purpose that definitively pushed them out of the illusion they had been caught into: they wanted, they needed to _build_ a refuge for whoever was dying out there.

Viper raised their head.

Colonnello suddenly opened his eyes and he saw Lal.

She was different, as if she had somehow got younger of twenty years, but Colonnello hadn't the tiniest hesitation in recognising her.

He would have recognised her anywhere, even in the full darkness and beneath a thousand clones.

But now, something was driving his attention far from her: a scream of pain that was bringing to the surface all the worst memories of the times he had actively served in the military, those moments when everything started to go havoc, those moment when you doubted you would come out alive and most of all you doubted you really wanted to come out alive.

It was a heart-breaking lament, an endless litany that screeched and stabbed, Colonnello felt the voice resounding in his ears and in his bones; he took that grief and he made it his, and he turned on one side with a huge effort, escaping Lal's arms.

There was a kid, down there, a pathetic dumpling covered by some kind of a leather suit, black and pink and purple, and for a second Colonnello wondered why, instead of looking weak and pitiful, he looked immense; immense and almost... _spread_.

He recalled for no reason at all the image of layers of dark clouds, those that come to promise storms at the edge of the desert and then never actually arrive, they just stay there being enlightened by the rays of the setting sun, mocking the thirst of that branch of humanity that, for choice or fate, had found themselves living in that unwelcoming place.

Those clouds were powerful, in their promise of a pause, almost deities for those who waited for them with such agony, and Colonnello felt indignant at the idea that someone or something was torturing them enough to make them yell that way.

Forgotten Lal, only pushed by the unquenchable thirst of bringing _calm_ in that dark cloud, he decided to take action.

Colonnello raised his head.

Verde had seen it all.

His brilliant mind, keen on processing informations at an exponentially quicker pace than the average person, had seen everything as in slow motion.

He had seen the edges of his body narrowing and shrinking, taking those soft, curvy forms that were typical of toddlers, and he had drawn his conclusions: for some still undiscovered reason, the blinding light that had welcomed them on the top of the mountain had forced his body to go back of thirty years.

He looked around and saw that his colleagues as well had been gifted with the same fate: somehow, there was that dude too, Colonnello, the one who had been following them for days to check on Lal Mirch. Verde deduced that the man had thrown himself in front of her with the purpose of defending her, but it apparently hadn't worked: Lal as well had become a child, even if she probably hadn't been hit with full force. All the others seemed to be still unconscious, and Skull was predictably the only one who was starting to wake up, while Lal had just fallen to the ground, and was staring at Colonnello with a puzzled expression. Verde couldn't blame her.

He looked away from her to check on the others; he wasn't surprised to be the first one to wake up: for some reason, even if he was a total duffer when it came to physical activities, he had always had a very _thick_ skin.

He noticed a quite disturbing detail: each one of his colleague was wearing a pacifier around the neck; all of them were of different colours, Lal's looked like it was made in stone. He looked down at his chest and saw that he had one as well, a green one. Whoever was the culprit, they had a really pathetic sense of humour.

Finally, reality seemed to grasp on Lal's mind, and the woman started to cry out; she was calling Colonnello, asking him to wake up. Useless, Verde thought, they had been chosen because they were the seven strongest individuals in the world: if Colonnello wasn't in the list, he probably was too weak to withstand the thing, whatever it was.

Skull, somewhere else, muttered something unclear; Verde shook his head, feeling it heavy and disproportionated, then he tried to get up to go and see if that Colonnello guy had at least survived. After all, he said to himself, he had no elements to try to understand the situation a little bit more and he had nothing better to do.

He stood up, he tried to make a step and he suddenly realized that it was complicated. You raise a foot, and then? An only foot seemed to be a too limited support for a whole body, especially one so small and especially when it had to keep straight a structure that was so unbalanced, with most of the weight concentrated on the upper part. All that walking business suddenly seemed an enormous evolutionary mistake.

Verde fell on his knees. He had the time to consider whether it was unworthy of his five PhDs to crawl to the other side of the plateau, then the screaming began.

Those sounds were excruciating, inconceivable, mostly because of their source.

Verde turned around, astonished, and he almost puked.

The person who was screaming, as he had already guessed, was Skull.

But saying that he was screaming was something like the most hyperbolic euphemism in the whole world. The sounds that were coming from his throat were only barely human, they sounded like the desperate cry of an animal who is dying while atrociously suffering.

Horrified, Verde saw Skull trying to get rid of the pacifier, crying and whimpering, like a deer that has been caught in a trap while trying to escape from a predator and that now knows that death is coming for it, and that it won't be a brief, merciful one.

He saw Skull grab the impalpable chain that was holding the pacifier and pull it to the right and to the left. The metallic wire sunk in the front of his throat, opening a cut which widened when Skull reclined his head back.

He fell backwards, his neck bent in a truly unlucky angle, and Verde was so sure that he would die on the spot that for a second he believed not to hear him screaming anymore.

But it didn't happen. Skull turned his head, and with a dry pop the vertebrae of his neck aligned back once again, while his hands resumed their pulling the chain, in vain.

Skull probably noticed that his efforts were futile, because he started to claw his throat; his child nails were small and fragile, and a few broke in the attempt, popping from the tip of his fingers like the tiny remains of pericarp of the popcorns when you try to bend them. But he managed to scratch his skin in three places, and other blood flowed.

If the blood had come out of the cut on the front in a slow tide, from those scratches it splattered, a signal that he had cut some major vase. Verde threw his dignity away and crawled to Skull, to try to help him even if he was far beyond any help, or at least not to let him die alone and desperate. He would have given gold to be able to lend him his famous thick skin and save his life.

He grabbed Skull by his wrists, forcing him to stop scavenging in his own neck, and fell over him when the stuntman lost his balance. Finally, the mysterious words that Skull was crying out started to have a meaning: -Laissez-moi, je ne veux pas, ne me blessez pas, s'il vous plaît!

-Skull! Stop it, for Christ's sake!- Verde yelled, terrified; he shoved his feet into the ground and threw himself on the stuntman's back, using his own body to keep his arms still, but he knew he wouldn't be able to resist for long. He felt Skull stiffen, so much that the contracting muscles of his back pushed Verde up, changing his perspective, then he saw him turn his face and shove it into the gravel. Suffocated by the dirt, his voice raised again, weak and broken and exhausted: -Morte, je supplie. Prends-moi, au moins cette foix.

-Stop it, Skull.- Verde whispered. He knew some French, more or less, at least enough to order dinner and ask for indications at a museum, but he had understood too well what Skull had said:

_Leave me._

_I don't want to._

_Don't hurt me._

_Please._

_Death, I'm begging you._

_Take me, at least this time._

Verde felt the blood freeze in his veins.

* * *

TW: summary of last paragraph:

Verde sees Skull hurt himself pretty bad and tries to stop him. He hears Skull speaking in French and he understands the lines you can see in italic.


	3. Target 02: Calm the Lackey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skull needs to be calmed down.  
> Reborn, Fon and Verde may have understood something.

Skull, in that very moment, was nothing but a fiery beast that was desperately trying to set himself free.

Verde felt himself being lifted up and shoved to the ground; unable to move quickly enough to stop Skull, he yelled: -Move your asses, you idiots! Stop him!- the scene that followed would have been comical if it wasn't for the context.

Everyone got up, quite at the same time, and all but Luce threw themselves forward. They all fell, stumbling upon the clothes that had gotten too big for them.

Skull as well stumbled and fell, and he started to flail again to try and set himself free from the impediment; Verde was sure that if he had managed to rip his leather suit off he would have thrown himself off the edge, naked as a jaybird.

-I'm going, kora!- Colonnello said, and he rapidly crawled on his elbows towards Skull. Verde opened his mouth to protest, to ask him who he thought he was, but Lal caught his eye: she looked like a tiny beggar, covered by her ripped shirt that was now enormous, but her eyes were fierce. She shook her head once: right, left, middle. Verde put together the data he had and he realized that, if Colonnello had ever been on the field during the war, he could be the better choice to calm Skull down.

The blond reached Skull, brutally grabbed him by his shoulders and slapped him twice, as hard as he could, strongly enough to make everyone else's head jump from their neck: -Soldier, calm your shit!- he commanded. His voice, while being logically childish, was somehow strong and charged with authority, so much that Skull froze on the spot and stared at him.

Colonnello caught Skull's eyes and tried not to lose the visual contact; strong with years of experience, he searched in his violet eyes for a tiny crumble of rationality, found it and grabbed it: -Boy, calm down. Everything is alright, no one is gonna hurt you. You're safe now, kora.- Colonnello kept looking in Skull's eyes until he felt his muscles relax, little by little. He waited until he felt him being completely relaxed, trying to infuse some calm into him, trying to save whatever still could be saved in him.

Lal approached them slowly, coming from an angle that she had studied so not to appear all of a sudden into Skull's eye sight; Colonnello felt her light steps coming closer, but he turned to look at her only after Skull raised his eyes towards her. They had danced on that choreography so many times, with Colonnello stopping the newbie soldiers' mental breakdowns and then Lal stepping in to bring some more comfort, usually a bottle of water or some chocolate, a very small thing but of great importance.

Lal was wearing some kind of greyish mantle, and she was holding something of the same colour in her arms: -We have found these. You two better put them on as well, our clothes don't fit us anymore.- wrong, Colonnello thought, while Skull started to tremble again.

-Later, Lal.- he said, -We aren't in a hurry, kora.- Lal got the message and sat with her legs crossed beside Colonnello. She took out the best smile she could and she addressed Skull directly: -You're healing fast, I see.- she said.

-Unluckily.- Skull replied. A tear fell down his eyes, but Colonnello archived the exchange as a half success: Skull was still upset, but he had managed to answer with something coherent.

Then, Lal looked up and her smile became even wider: -Luce, how are you?-

-I'm fine.- the other answered. Another point to Lal, she had managed to warn Skull that someone else was coming without alarming him. Still a standard procedure, of course, but executed perfectly: every time Colonnello though he couldn't love Lal more than he already did, there she came proving him that he was wrong.

Luce kneeled beside Skull and brought his head on her chest. Colonnello wondered whether it was an optical illusion or if she really looked a bit older than them all, then he set aside any further consideration when he saw that Skull was starting to cry again.

Skull was soaking with sweat.

The wetness of his hair trespassed the fabric of Luce's mantle, making her barely shiver. Without minding the stuntman's acid smell, Luce circled his shoulder with her arms and let him cry against her chest, trying to create a resonance with him; just like she had planned to do in a few months, when her baby girl would be born and would have to face those small, unbearable problems of the early childhood, a baby tooth coming out, a small colic, a fastidious tiredness that prevents the sleep.

Skull was weeping, but something was different now: he was no longer desperate. Luce put herself to listen, and she felt relieved noticing that the fear was little by little being replaced by a strange form of reprieve. Skull grasped her, grabbed her thumb and his tiny fingers circled it, still stained with blood; his nails, though, had already grown back.

-Reborn.- Fon called him in a whisper, approaching the colleague that was keeping himself afar.

-We have to make him stop and leave this place.- Reborn said.

-Allow him some time.-

-I'm doing it. But I mean what I said.-

-It's not just because of... you know, this.- Fon said, pointing at his own body. He had no better word to define what had happened, but he was sure that Reborn would understand.

-Of course not. And the sooner he stops, the sooner we can ask him what the hell is wrong with him.

-Of course, if we use your lovely manners he'll surely tell us.- Fon replied. His voice was harsh, but when Reborn looked at him he saw a tiny hint of a quiet smile on his face. Fon stopped looking up and stared at him: -We'll have to go slowly on him.-

-Slowly my balls, Fon, haven't you seen how much he hurt himself? He nearly killed himself!-

-I saw.- Reborn shut up, while the colleague's point of view started to get a grip on his mind. Fon had seen something else behind Skull's breakdown, something big, something the boy had tried to bury inside of himself for a large part of his life, and hitting him like a crazy train to force a confession from him would have been deleterious.

Verde reached them: -I think someone hurt him when he was a child.- he said.

-That's what I'm afraid of.- Fon replied. Reborn stayed silent for a while, knowing that there was more, then he said: -Explain, Verde.

-I hear what he was saying. He was pleading someone not to hurt him. And...- Verde hesitated. Fon had the time to think that Reborn's hard expression didn't invite to confidences, when the hitman sighed and said: -Listen. Whatever this business is, we're all in this together. Alone or divided, I doubt we could do anything at all, I think. So, if that purple-haired weirdo has some problem, we have to solve it together before going on.

-He asked death to take him, “at least this time”.- Verde mimicked the speech marks mid-air. -I have the bad suspect that the boy tried to kill himself a lot of times.- Reborn and Fon didn't reply: none of them knew what to say.

-Skull, you're sweaty.- Luce said, when he calmed down. His weeping had reduced to a bit of a hiccups and a slightly broken breath. Luce went on: -What do you think about putting on some clean clothes?

-I don't want anyone to look at me.- Skull answered, sinking his face in her chest.

-Well, that's something new.- Verde said, kneeling beside the two of them, -Aren't you the same dude who two days ago made a triple pike from a bridge just to show he was able to?- Skull looked at him suspiciously, turning his head a little bit.

-Ouch, it's stuck!- Colonnello said, involuntarily catching his attention. Skull looked at him and saw that Colonnello's pacifier had been caught by his t-shirt; Lal was helping him free himself, muttering a long list of reasons why, one way or another, the blond kept being a total dumbass.

But what caught Skull's attention was Colonnello's back: dark and shiny, looking closer Skull realized that it was entirely covered with a scar, starting from his shoulders down to his butt.

-Grenade?- Verde asked.

-What?- Colonnello went, then he focused: -Ah, no. Landmine. I almost left my balls there.

-Raw deal.

-Could have been worse.- Colonnello shuddered, then he took the mantle that Lal was offering him, he put it on and turned around. Even in his child form, Colonnello's posture was still military, his shoulders straight and his chin up, fierce, as if having his back ruined by an enormous scar wasn't much of a big deal.

-Skull, here's yours.- Colonnello said, giving him a handful of fabric. On his face there was a reassuring smile, and Skull took the cloth.

Slowly, looking down, he took off his leather suit; he hesitated. His t-shirt had been really adherent, a few minutes before, and now it was barely too big, it fit him like a dress. However, it was soaking wet, and keeping it on would have meant exposing himself to a cold: as much as Skull was basically immortal, he wasn't immune to diseases. He quickly took it off and put on the mantle, then he sat down beside Luce again. Colonnello smiled at him again, as to say: “See? It wasn't that hard.”

Viper fluctuated in front of him, their tiny crossed legs disappearing under her mantle. The hood had been pulled to cover their face almost entirely. They landed, took Skull's hands, then they waited. Skull felt all his childhood memories flow through him, but they were far, almost as if they couldn't hurt him anymore.

He looked up and saw a glimpse of Viper's under their hood. They nodded.

Fon stood beside the illusionist and gently said: -Skull, whatever the matter is, we can help you and we will. We'll find a way, even if it seems impossible. Do you get me?- Reborn kneeled beside Skull, a tiny arm perched on his knee. His seductive poses hadn't left him even in his childish form, and Skull swallowed. Another memory had emerged, and now it was closer, more painful, it almost made him hear the sound of the whips that had hit him so often.

And a voice, an adult, rough and blabbering voice: “Pourquoi tu ne peux pas faire comme Claire?” Skull involuntarily jumped.

-What have they done to you, boy?- Reborn asked. His voice was dark and menacing, but Skull didn't felt in danger. He felt protected. He suddenly understood that what everyone was saying was true: that group of miniature phenomenal individuals would protect him to their last breaths.

He hesitated again, this time not out of fear but out of shame: he had read a lot of books about post traumatic syndrome, but none of them had managed to convince him that what had happened wasn't his fault. After all, he gloomily thought, it's hard to get rid of an idea if someone convinces you with a whip.

And mostly when you can't get rid of your own life as well, damn, you get up from the ten metres jump you just did, you fix the bones in place, you stick back the skin parts that have been torn and after a few hours you're just as good as you were, apart from some scars. Such an unnatural abomination couldn't be anything but disgusting.

-I have no place to go. Don't let me go back to where I lived when I was a child. Please, don't.- he just said. Reborn inhaled, as if he wanted to say something else, but Fon stopped him with a gesture of his hand; Skull saw Colonnello give the hitman a stink eye.

-First of all, let us all leave this stupid mountain, shall we?- Fon proposed.

-Our hotel is still booked.- Verde went on for him, -If we go in on the sly and we call the room service, no one will ask us any question and we'll have the time to speak freely.

-Your idea, your bill.- Viper said.

-Colonnello, you come with us,- Lal said, -You wanted this shit of a bicycle, now it's your fucking business to ride it.

-Yes, my lady and mistress, how much beautiful femininity in your sweet wor... OUCH!- Skull looked at them all. They had yet to offer him a reassurance.

-You won't go anywhere if you don't want to, Skull.- Luce finally said, -We'll find a place for you, if we can't you will join the Giglio Ner Family.

-Alright. Then, let's go.- Skull said, feeling lighter.

-That's what I...- Reborn began, -Ah, screw it. Let's go, lackey, make way, you're the expert.


End file.
